


Beyond Evil Dead

by thylekshran



Category: Ash vs Evil Dead (TV), Re-Animator (Movies)
Genre: (probably altho i am a big lesbian so everything happens fast in my mind), M/M, Slow Burn, it will probably be long, it's not THAT graphic but better safe than sorry, the dan/herbert is in the past and only implied, this is a gift for my friend, updated the tags for violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-03-29 08:11:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13923003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thylekshran/pseuds/thylekshran
Summary: Herbert West escaped The Death House and spent years, far too long, with no place to call home. Elk Grove, Michigan has just the body count he's been looking for.





	1. Not A Monster But A Man

**Author's Note:**

> Name subject to change, I just came up with it 10 seconds ago so I'd have something to put in the field.
> 
> Inspired by my friend Marty who made an awesome Ashbert playlist that I'm listening to on repeat.
> 
> This takes place in like... 2006? Beyond Re-Animator took place in the early 00s and Ash Vs Evil Dead is set in 2008 I believe so it's somewhere in the middle.

If you asked anyone who’d met Herbert West what the man was like, it’s unlikely they would say he valued the company of others. But then again, nobody had ever managed to really know Herbert West as a man, just as a monster. Daniel Cain, maybe, but even with his only friend Herbert had been cagey and often unkind. Doctor Hans Gruber, perhaps, but you would need a brain more powerful than the monster’s to get words from his mouth again. Some long forgotten relative, if any information on West’s young life were out there to be found.

He had his reasons. With such delicate work, one must not allow those of little faith to compromise it. With such a traumatized mind, one must not allow the cruelty of humankind access to the true self.

Despite the carefully constructed facade, Herbert West was not a monster. Each cold and calculating word was chosen to conceal this fact, but there was a man underneath. And no man, not even the infamous architect of the Miskatonic Massacre, is an island.

It had been three long years since his escape from prison, and he was lonely. Flighty and treacherous as Dan had shown himself to be, Herbert missed him. He missed working side by side in grimy basements, he missed the inane fascination the dear fool had with any girl who so much as looked at him, and most of all he missed the way Dan said his name; not in a hushed whisper, as if the very invocation of it would raise a corpse, but as he would anyone else’s. (So long as that anyone frequently thrust him into mortal danger.)

The nomadic lifestyle simply didn't suit him. He needed to settle down again, to continue the work. He peered owlishly down the gas station isle to the night shift attendant behind the counter, eyes magnified by the thick lenses of his old glasses. Unfortunately, the glasses he had in prison had fallen victim to a squirrel he reanimated last year, and he couldn't spare the expense for a new pair in his current situation. He couldn’t even afford the bottle of water he had clutched in his hand. He watched the bored teenager flip through some distasteful truckstop magazine, considering his options.

While he pondered, his eyes wandered across the rack of newspapers nearby. Several uninteresting reports on global and national news, the usual tabloid drivel, and one local rag reporting on the anniversary of “Ashy Slashy's rampage.” Herbert was going to turn and leave, but that last headline struck him. Where had he heard that phrase before?

Ah, yes. Ashy Slashy, the maniac of Elk Grove, Michigan. A town with an unusually high body count and a man with tall tales of demons and evil, so said the Michigan native he had met in the Death House. Well, Herbert wasn’t sure what to make of the man, not being a great believer in powers beyond the scientific, but the body count he could work with.

Grabbing a second bottle, he walked slowly toward the exit. A subtle flick of the wrist was all it took to send the decoy rolling through the anti-theft system. The kid looked up from his magazine, sighed heavily, and left his post to shut it down. Just before he hit the reset, Herbert slipped out with a polite nod.

“Have a pleasant night.”

He didn't reply, and Herbert didn't really expect him to.

Herbert buckled his seatbelt, and spoke aloud to nobody in particular. Unless the spare parts in the cooler cared to listen. “Elk Grove, hm? I suppose it’s as good as I’m going to get.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Herbert meets Ash's demons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how to write action so I'm just slappin this up here and seeing what y'all think. At least I'm finally through the setup!

He didn’t quite make it to Elk Grove. He clicked his tongue in frustration, but even the iron will of Herbert West couldn't hold off starvation. It had been many days since he'd procured a proper meal, and gas station snacks only got you so far.

Checking his wallet, he portioned out enough of what he’d found (never mind that the recently deceased hunter he found it on had been mysteriously unable to down the buck he was after) for a motel room. One more night in his car and he was sure he’d lose it. There was enough left over to eat. He sighed with relief.

If only he were still 28, Dan at his side and the whole world his oyster. He never used to concern himself with the mundane this way, but life heeded not what such brilliance deserved.

Not a monster, but not a god either. Mortal, like the rest of them.

He pulled into some tiny worthless grocery store in a tiny worthless town. The only upside to these places was that the people were unlikely to recognize him. Too caught up in their own sad lives to care about the danger lurking anywhere but the cornfield.

An overly cheerful young man welcomed him to Value Stop, and Herbert gave him a tight lipped smile. The greatest downside to these places was the midwestern pleasantry. They always asked too many questions and lying was not one of his great talents.

Regardless. He walked along the aisles with silent, fluid motion. A survival tactic since the incident with Doctor Hill all those years ago, and very useful in prison. If nobody knows you're there, they won't hurt you. It was his default, now. He couldn't ever be sure if the authorities were right around the corner, but it made him feel safer.

At the end of aisle nine, he heard raised voices. He paused to listen.

“Ash, if you don't get your shit together-”

“Now, now, Mr. Lewis, let’s not do anything hasty, say anything we might regret-”

“-I will get you transferred out of here so fast your head will spin, and your next manager might be less forgiving than I!”

“Aw, but I was just getting somewhere with Ava! She’s a tough nut to crack, but I get the feeling she's hoping to crack some nuts of her own if you get-”

“Williams, just take these boxes to the back. Sometime today, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

Well, well. What a stroke of luck. No need to get to Elk Grove after all. Ash Williams was right here.

To minimize suspicion, Herbert left the store and awaited Mr. Williams in the parking lot, eyes peeled for the man from the newspaper. It was several hours before he spotted him, albeit 30 years older, headed to a yellow car parked nearly sideways in the spot closest to the Value Stop’s doors. He drove as poorly as he parked, and it was no trouble to tail him to a local bar.

Herbert had always hated bars. Alcohol robbed people of their control, and he would be six feet under before he surrendered control voluntarily. He ordered a rum and coke to nurse as long as he must and settled in a dark corner, the glare of the dim lights on his glasses the only sign he was there at all.

Laser focused on Williams, who was trying to convince a tall blonde to sleep with him by telling one of his stories of heroism, it took Herbert several minutes to notice that he was being watched. A woman sat across the room, smile on her lips, staring at him. His paranoia told him she was here to arrest him. His more rational mind reminded him this was a bar, and that smile screamed flirtation.

He sunk impossibly deeper into the shadows. Whatever it was she wanted of him, he would not be providing it.

Contrary to what people believed about him, Herbert was not dispassionate. He had been in love, and he quite enjoyed sexual encounters when he found the time for it, though he rarely sought them out. But Herbert was gay and not eager to risk his life and career (when he had one, anyway) by coming out, and thus his disinterest in women was assumed to be a rejection of relationships as a whole. If only they knew just how intimate Dan’s betrayal had been.

His eyes flicked to Williams. He didn't appear to be going anywhere soon, so Herbert downed his drink and retreated to the men’s room.

“Strange that people are less afraid of me since prison,” he said to his reflection. “As I understand it, it’s usually the other way around.”

Though, looking at himself in the mirror, he understood. In his prime, the serum had worked magic in his veins. He’d been sharp and wirey with a glint in his eyes that most recognized instantly as a threat. There were lingering effects; he could pass for 35 despite his age, and he liked to think there was a shadow of the formidable in his face yet, but he was not the ghoul of his youth. He was, however, still a force to be reckoned with.

The bathroom door slammed open and Herbert flinched, train of thought completely derailed by the loud noise.

“Hey, handsome,” said a high voice from the doorway, “you all done freshening up for me?”

Herbert cursed under his breath and darted for a stall, but the woman from the bar was somehow faster. He found himself trapped between her body and the wall of the stall he was unable to lock in time. His discomfort rapidly morphed into terror.

“Get off me, you bitch,” he spat, struggling futility against her vice grip.

“Now, now, Herby, is that any way to talk to a lady?” The retort he’d prepared died on his lips as her face distorted and wrinkled into a twisted mockery of a human that even Herbert had never seen. She (it?) clicked her tongue at him condescendingly. “Chivalry really is dea-”

Herbert moved in a flash of metal and glass. He jammed his pocket knife into her carotid artery and her sentence was lost in a spray of blood. All his strength went into a single cut and he tore through her windpipe, across her throat, then pushed her away from him with a full body shudder.

Her body hit the ground and the now detached head rolled across the floor. He ripped his stained button down off. Fuck. Time to go.

Before he could take a step, the bathroom door opened again to the sounds of sloppy kisses and laughter. It was Williams and the blonde, who it seemed had been convinced by the oaf’s subpar seduction.

They were so caught up in each other he almost made a clean exit, but Williams stumbled and stepped right on the head with a sickening squelch. Herbert froze as Williams looked from the head to him and back again.

He really hoped he wouldn't have to kill him too.


End file.
